YMA

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Gudda Gudda\\] I'm a Young Money big dawg, barking at you puppies Great White Shark, feasting on you guppies [?] count the money, drink is poured, cups is muddy Young fly boy, niggas hating, but the hoes love me Wrist [?] pretty, touch it, it get ugly like Shrek I'm on my Lox shit, Money, Power, Respect Young Money running this shit like a track team Act stupid, Guns get pulled like a hamstring I don't give a damn, you ain't gon' do a damn thing Sick my dawgs on you, get jumped like a trampoleen I'm slick like gasoline, I'm sick, I need a vaccine I stick to the script, and you niggas stick to acting I'm HD like a flat screen All black hoodie, black teeth, pistol hanging out my black jeans You don't want to start nothing, we gon' have to finish it What up, my brother Gunna? This that Young Money militia [Verse 2: Short Dawg] [?] [?] around it [?] bandwidth You niggas ain't hustling, you just middle man licks Counting cash, pulling hoes, like the ceiling fan switch I'm 'bout to lose it though I guess a nigga too cool to blow Cause all I see is flares, like I'm shopping in the Louie store Been in the game for years, and I ain't changed a bit I sware these lames is weird, like Al Yankovic I'm riding something with the roof missing You probably underneeth the [?] Getting your hair shampooed and bleeched I'm calling plays like the coach, [?] reach [?] Gudda, Mack [?] the streets [?] we turning all you goons to [?] You lil niggas tryna spoon with freaks Stick a fork in it, you best believe the game over, soon as Short in it [Verse 3: Cory Gunz] Gunsmoke, South Bronks, iggas blowing blunt smoke Drama never [?] Lama make his sons moap [?] went and snatched him a peronna with the Pun flow Fucke thinking 'bout the ddesigner, this a gun coat Stunna Man, it's Lil Gunna Man Shout [?] got the lil niggas pitching underhand Fuck rock scissors, paper rubber band We with the real niggas, they in the motherland Take over the show, like a cover band Take over your ho, ike the other man Seek another plan, tryna run for cover, damn [?] [Verse 4: Mack Maine] I been a beast since I was wearing footies Playing footsies Now I be in K.O.D., Magic City and Tootsies Hopped on a Young Money train, look where it took me Now I only worry 'bout what the chef gon' cook me Haters say they can't find me when they look me up Your head down, you're depressed, boy, you should be looking up I do it B.I.G., nigga I'm Brooklyn tough Bring something to the table, stop hollaring "hook me up" Cash Money Mike Jackson, smooth criminal Grinding on the streets, till I got blue jenitals On a track I can go nuts, huge jenitals [?] 5 star general I ain't reached my pinical I'm a walking mearical Get at you in a physical, and haunt you in the spiritual Never had no fear of you, never shed no tears [?] No palm palms, I ain't never cheer with you